Morning Silence
by Dotty Pierce
Summary: Speculation. Mind games. Strange Love. Marauders era, Bellatrix and Rodolphus.


**Email:** Count: 2,150.

**Warnings:** Nudity, mild sexual tension.

**Disclaimer:** All works are based on characters and environments that are owned by their respective creator and/or companies associated with them. The plot, story line, and interactions with these characters belong solely to the author. Any original character that might appear in these stories also belong to the author and may not be reproduced in any story without the author's explicit consent.

**Author's Note:** This is a one-shot spur of the moment collaborative fic between myself and the ever talented Woodra (LJ user:Woodra).

* * *

What time was it? Couldn't have been passed 5:00am. She had been up for well before now, unable to sleep. The silence of the morning was thick, a strange sort of threat hanging over anyone who dare try to break it. Bellatrix sat at her vanity in the small adjunct room that connected the master bath to her and Rodolphus' room. Her hair, still damp from her bath hung down, reaching the middle of her back, heavy. Her legs were crossed, the top of her right thigh exposed from the slip of her dressing gown.

Rodolphus still lay in bed, sleeping. Or perhaps not. A small sigh breathed its way through her lips, not yet coated with lipstick. She lifted her chin, surveying her face. Each feature was perfect, an all encompassing perfection, unlike the selective beauty of so many. There was never a moment when she couldn't look in the mirror and not be pleased with her appearance. Even still, Bellatrix was hardly a vain person. Not like Narcissa. Her sister's obsessive nature over her own appearance pulled away from much of the natural beauty that she had. She thought too much of herself. Far too much. It was a weakness in Bellatrix's eyes. A weakness Narcissa would always have. Maybe there was more to her sister than what she saw, but Bellatrix doubted it, and didn't care very much to find out otherwise. Not now, anyway.

Bellatrix opened her dressing gown, letting it slip down off her shoulders, pooling in the bend of her arms. And she stared. Her eyes wide and curious, almost as if staring at herself for the first time. She watched with silent dispassion as her nipples hardened as the cool morning air touched her unclothed body.

Her body that was sharp, pointed, and cold. Hardened, yet strangely soft to the touch. One of her bony hands lifted, trailing down her arm, tracing the faint V that stemmed from her should, ending at a single point in the middle of her upper arm. Her dark eyes followed the prominent line of her collarbones, and the bone in her chest that you could see at a certain angle in the light. Her eyes followed down to the curve of her small breasts. She turned, surveying the lines of her back, the way muscles and skin tightened and pulled as she moved. Every inch of skin the same lustrous pale tone, unmarred by even the tiniest of flaws.

Long minutes passed and she stared, drinking in each curve and every angle. Every minute detail of her body that shown in the mirror. Her body, the only part of her most anyone would ever see. Few ever saw past the intensity of her eyes, few ever saw past the simple forefront of what made her beautiful. She lacked the air of innocence and femininity that surrounded Narcissa; she was without the inquisitive and warm air of Andromeda. What surrounded Bellatrix was the feel of power. Pure, intense, unaltered power. It was obvious and blunt, a feel that forced wizard and witches treat her differently than most, no, all woman. She lived in a world that most men couldn't even play in. She knew that, she knew how it intimidated people, how it made them wary in her presence. Her simple advantage over them. Simple, yet endlessly useful.

Playing on another's fear, Bellatrix thrived on it. Her appearance of apathy and cold detachment was such a lie, a lie only one person saw though, the perfection of her precious Rodolphus. She lived in the highs and the lows of human emotion. That very passion that drove people into action, or that drove people away from it. The heat of the moment, it was an untouchable exhilaration that amplified her desire for i more /i . Bellatrix lifted her chin again, surveying herself through the heavy lids of her half-closed eyes. More, she would forever want more.

Rodolphus lay awakened in the vastness of the silk-linened bed, staring at the ceiling, the stark whiteness of it hued with the first rays of the early dawn. The air in the room was cold, biting to one just back from the bittersweet land of him, the Morpheus. Rodolphus tilted his head, watching how the subtle lines on the ceiling shifted to suit his new viewpoint. He enjoyed the sensation of goosebumps rising on his skin, tingling gently, urging him to cover himself - and he, the master of it all, staying naked and uncovered despite the early morning frost.

Stretching gracefully, he finally rose from the bed and walked over to the heavy dark green drapiers. He stretched them apart before taking in the sight of the faraway mountains, still snow-capped and distant. Face still eerily emotionless, apathetic almost, he turned the latch on the window and pushed the glass aside, letting the morning breeze inside. The biting air enveloped his slender body and he shuddered from the raw emotion flowing psychotically inside his very body. Cold, so cold!

Rodolphus drew in the icy air and turned around, walking in the direction of the small light that was coming out shyly from the small room adjunct to their master bath. He entered the room quietly, padding toward his wife like a silent predator. Her beauty, once again, as always, made his breath hitch and the coldness disappear - his hands slowly reached out to trace the curve of her neck, trembling slightly from the tension.

"Good morning, darling," he said, his head tilted to the side, his hands wrapped around her neck tightly.

Bellatrix shivered, Rodolphus' voice sounded thick with sleep – oh, that voice! She made a barely audible hum as his hands reached her neck, the vibration of the sound amplified from his action. They were warm, his hands, almost burning from the sharp contrast of the cold air that had once been the only thing to touch her.

"Did I disturb you?" She asked quietly, her voice strained from Rodolphus' hands. She reached up, behind her, her cold hands trailing down his arms to the base of his wrists, letting her fingers curl around her husbands. She squeezed tighter, leaning so her bare back was resting against his torso. Eyes shut she concentrated on the way he felt on her skin, the way she could hear the rush of blood in her ears. She opened her eyes, staring intently at Rodolphus through the mirror of her vanity, unmoving.

"Yes," was the simple reply. Rodolphus stared back at Bellatrix, entranced. His eyes never traveled lower than her intricately carved facial features, it would have been a blasphemy in and of itself to trade the beauty of her face for the carnal. He wouldn't give in. How could he when she looked at him like that? When the thin and subtle vein on her neck pulsated so vulnerably beneath his fingers?

Rodolphus let his fingers slide slowly into her hair, slightly damp, harsh and unyielding that way. He caressed Bellatrix's skin, as he trailed lines from her neck to the back of her head, squeezing at the skull lightly. Fixing his hands on either side of her head, Rodolphus leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You disturb me all the time." His grip on Bellatrix's head became tighter, as if he wanted to crush her skull. "My beauty, you're in my blood," he said before letting a wry smirk creep up on his sharply honed face and leaning further down to plant a gentle kiss on Bellatrix's shoulder.

Bellatrix breathed in deeply when Rodolphus' hands released her neck, the air chilling the inside of her throat. She shivered from a cold draft that swept over her, and then again when her husband's lips oh-so gently brushed over her shoulder. Her eyes never left his in the mirror; the intensity of staring into those icy aquamarine eyes was exhilarating. Oh, the way her looked at her. Only her.

Bellatrix turned in her seat to face her husband. The soft silk of her dressing gown fell, tumbling to rest at her feet on the floor as she stood. One long, pale finger traced along the edge of Rodolphus' jaw, from ear to chin. Her eyes, sweeping over his face, settling on his eyes for the briefest of moments. She rose up to her toes, leaning in close to him "what does it feel like?" she whispered, her breath dancing across the crevices of his ear.

A hiss. One single hiss on one single note left Rodolphus's mouth, enwrapping them both in its curves, as Bellatrix touched him with her icy fingers. Always icy. Always melting. Rodolphus felt his whole body stiffen slightly and an all-consuming fire starting up in the bottom of his stomach, threatening to scorch everything on its way. What an exquisite game she was offering, a Black to the end with her preference for the obscure.

She stood unassailable in her stark nakedness, beautiful as the Snow Queen, yet inaccessible as if hidden beneath piles of clothing - she could always do that. But one single touch, the tactile as powerful as it was subtle, and the distance was broken. It was always like that.

"A caterpillar," Rodolphus said, leaning down closer to her in response. "A killing butterfly with wings of silver," he whispered in her ear in his turn.

"Butterflies," she said absently, her feet flat on the ground again "so delicate they are." Her head tilted, her eyes curious as she looked up at her husband. "Even the most gentle of touches," her hands rose, smoothing across Rodolphus' chest, palms flat against the skin "and the wings are broken." One hand move, long nails lightly scraping over the heated flesh.

"Butterflies," Rodolphus countered through his gritted teeth as he tried not to respond too passionately to Bellatrix's games, "can be dried and added to the collection." The attempt in itself was already something that deserved a special mention as Rodolphus wasn't one to restrain himself from acting on his whims and desires. But it was Bellatrix, the only person on earth Rodolphus gave the privilege of having that power over him. The coldness of the air in their master bedroom from the open windows had started seeping into this adjunct room, making Rodolphus shiver imperceptibly from the clash of two extremes. The cold exterior and the burning interior. With a slight smirk Rodolphus found he was enjoying the torture. Hands hanging freely by his sides, he didn't move a finger toward Bellatrix, curious to see what would happen next. And only the slight glow in his eyes indicated he was slowly slipping into one of his manic states.

"One dainty collection after the next, hmm?" she replied, a faint smile curling into the corners of her lips. Bellatrix's eyes stared at the way the skin tightened as Rodolphu's jaw clenched. Such impeccable restraint, Bellatrix's curiosity swelled as to what it would take for it to break. A challenge she'd save for later.

"My beautiful, beautiful Rodolphus, how I love that look in your eyes." Her voice held a hint of anticipation, recognizing what was happening. Her hands slowly dragged down Rodolphu's chest, pulling away from his skin before clasping neatly together behind her back. She looked down at her husband's arms, resting at his sides. "You never touch me of your own accord." She said lowly, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly as she spoke. Her voice it was almost a whisper, silently wondering if he'd take that as an invitation, or a dare of sorts.

Rodolphus suddenly smiled, a slightly coldish, eerie smile that nevertheless hid a well of passion behind its cool exterior. Bellatrix stood in front of him like a curious forest child, hands clasped behind her back, head tilted slightly. Such alluring innocence, dark and raw. Killing innocence.

His smile still shimmering over his lips, Rodolphus raised his left hand and let his index finger touch the porcelain of Bellatrix's skin above her collarbone. He let his finger trail a light line downward, passing over her thorax, dipping between the perfect circles of her breasts, and lower to her abdomen. The ghostly touch died away into oblivion a second past her navel. Keeping his gaze firmly locked with Bellatrix (as if he could ever _not_ look at her whenever she was present in the room), Rodolphus leaned forward, face lowering down, to kiss, to capture her black rose petals of lips, but the moment passed, and his breath only brushed over her mouth, before moving over to her ear. "I touch your mind," he whispered, his lips lingering there for more than necessary.

His finger left a trail of fire behind it, burning at the shadowy touch that trailed across her skin. Before there was even a chance for a response, Rodolphus had pulled away and left her. Alone in her cold room once again.

**.End.**


End file.
